Three Weeks
by ricola12345
Summary: Here's a little fic that involves both John's and Sherlock's POV. I based it off of a prompt I found on tumblr. All mistakes belong to me. I had to write it down and get it out of my head before I forgot. Please review and tell me what y'all think!


Prompt:

What if when Sherlock gets back he goes to see John and John doesn't even react just lets him slide seamlessly back into his life. And at first Sherlock thinks it's kind of weird but he gets used to it, to John never bringing it up, to the way he sometimes just snaps and yells or breaks something because he figures, "That's just the way he copes and I deserve so much worse." Then one day Lestrade or Mrs. Hudson or someone shows up and starts talking to Sherlock and John goes all white in the face and says, "You can see him too?"

John's POV

John sat down in his chair with the newspaper and his morning cup of tea. He sat there reading the paper when he suddenly felt a presence. Mrs. Hudson usually left him alone these days. He looked up and saw Sherlock standing in the doorway. John felt his chest tighten but didn't let any emotion show on his face. He just sighed and went back to reading the daily paper. He heard Sherlock sigh and sit in his own chair that had been unoccupied for three years. Without a second thought John sighed, put down the newspaper, and headed to the kitchen to make another cup of tea for Sherlock like he used to.

This went on for two weeks before the first fit of anger. There were no warning signs beforehand, it just happened.

"Damn it, Sherlock! How many times have I told you not to keep the toes in the fridge?" The sight of the toes made John furious even though they have been there since before the fall. It wasn't the toes that pushed him over the ledge, it's just this time all the anger he held back for the past three years just erupted from him. He found himself grabbing the jar of toes and throwing it at Sherlock, hitting him square in the face. John regretted the action the moment the jar left his hand.

"Oh my God Sherlock; I'm so sorry!" apologized John as he ran into the kitchen to grab a cold ice pack from the freezer. He swiftly wrapped up the icepack in a dishtowel and walked over to Sherlock and applied it to the growing bruise now surrounding Sherlock's eye. "I'm so sorry Sherlock." John apologized again as he looked down at his feet. He felt Sherlock's hand cover his own and looked up. What he saw in Sherlock's eyes made his heart ache. He swore it looked like Sherlock believed he deserved the injury, but the flicker of emotion was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Just the thought of Sherlock being injured by John's hand made him feel ill.

The next time John lashed out was a week later. He could feel Sherlock hovering over his shoulder ever since he lashed out the week before. It was driving John nuts. They were in the kitchen when it happened.

"Sherlock!" John barked, "Will you stop hovering, it is driving me crazy!" Sherlock didn't move. John turned around and shoved Sherlock out of the way. Apparently there was too much force behind the shove because Sherlock fell backwards and hit the floor with a thud. This time John was too angry to care whether or not Sherlock was injured. He just left Sherlock lying there until he heard his name being called softly.

"John?" he heard the deep baritone voice hesitate. Looking back into the kitchen he saw Sherlock looking down at one of his hands while the other was clutching the back of his head. Slowly John exhaled and got up to head to the bathroom to grab his medical kit.

Returning to the living room, he found Sherlock sitting in front of the couch pressing a napkin to the back of his head. As he crossed the room he could see blood seeping through the thin material. Cursing to himself, he sat down on the couch and removed Sherlock's hand and the napkin he was holding from his head and examined the injury. It wasn't a bad cut, but it did require a couple of stitches. John quickly went into doctor mode. He quietly cleaned the wound, earning a slight hiss from the man below and began to stitch up the wound. When he finished he sighed and went back into the bathroom to clean up, put his medical kit away, and took a deep breath.

When John returned to the living room, he saw Sherlock was in the same spot as before, as if in deep thought. John sat silently in his own chair and began to think. He thought about the past few weeks. He began to doubt that these past few weeks had even happened. He began to believe he was dreaming, or at least hallucinating. This Sherlock was too quiet and wasn't damaging anything just because he was bored. Sherlock can't really be here; John watched him fall and saw him hit the ground. He was almost convinced he was imaging Sherlock, when suddenly he was pulled out of his thoughts by a gasp. Looking over, thinking it was "Sherlock" who had gasped he saw Mrs. Hudson gaping in the direction of where Sherlock was sitting; now staring back at Mrs. Hudson.

"Sh-Sherlock," She stuttered out. John felt himself pale at that single word.

Looking at Mrs. Hudson, John uttered a single sentence. "You can see him too?"

Sherlock's POV

_John. _That was the first thought that popped into Sherlock's head when he got to the top of the stairs leading to 221B Baker Street. He hesitated briefly before stepping through the doorway. He saw that John was sitting down in his chair with the newspaper and his morning cup of tea. He stiffened slightly when he saw John look up and look straight at him. He felt his heart drop when he heard John sigh and return his attention back to the paper.

Sherlock couldn't hold back the disappointed sigh that escaped his lips. Slowly, he made his way across the room and sat in his chair. Just as he sat down, he saw John get up and head towards the kitchen. A few minutes later, John returned with a cup of tea and sat it in front of Sherlock without saying a word. This went on for the next two weeks, when suddenly John lashed out in anger.

"Damn it, Sherlock! How many times have I told you not to keep toes in the fridge?" Sherlock was pulled out of his thoughts by John's yelling. Looking up, he saw the jar of pickled toes coming towards his face, hitting his cheekbone. He could feel the bruise forming already. Sherlock was puzzled because the toes had been there for over three years.

"Oh my god Sherlock; I'm so sorry!" he heard John apologize. He felt John press a cold pack against his cheek, right below his eye. He heard John apologize again, "I'm so sorry Sherlock." He saw john look down and stare at their feet. He put his hand on John's and saw John look up.

_It is okay John, I deserve it. I don't blame you it is my fault, _thought Sherlock. He felt the sentiment cross his face, but he pushed it away as quickly as it appeared. He saw John flinch when they made eye contact.

The next time John lashed out at Sherlock was a week later. Sherlock had found himself hovering over John's shoulder. He couldn't help himself; he felt that if he went on like he usually did, ignoring John, he felt that John would be the one to leave but he wouldn't come back. They were in the kitchen when it happened.

"Sherlock!" he heard John bark out, "Will you stop hovering it is driving me crazy!" Sherlock just blinked, not sure what to do. Suddenly he felt himself being shoved and found himself falling backwards hitting the ground with a thud. He saw John stop past him and sit in his chair. Sherlock sat up and gingerly felt the back of his head. He pulled his hand away when he felt a damp spot. Looking down at his hand, he saw that it was covered with his blood. He knew it would require stiches. He applied pressure to help stop the bleeding and quietly called for John.

"John?" he called out. He knew he needed John's help with the stitches he knew he needed. He saw John look back, get up and head towards the bathroom. He was probably getting his medical kit from under the bathroom sink. Sherlock decided to grab a napkin and sit in front of the couch. He wanted to make it easier on John to tend to his wound. Sitting down, Sherlock pressed the napkin to his head to slow the bleeding. He heard John leave the bathroom and head back down to the living room. He heard John curse to himself and knew he was blaming himself. He felt John sit behind him on the couch and felt John pulling his hand away from his head and replaced it with his own. John was quiet, so Sherlock knew he was in doctor mode. Sherlock felt a sting when John cleaned the wound, and hissed at the slight pain. He felt John stitching up his wound as Sherlock began to think. Sherlock started to look back and think about the past three weeks. He began to think about what his presence had been doing to John. After all, the last time John had seen him was three years ago, when he jumped off the roof of St. Bart's. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a gasp. It was much too feminine to be John's, so logically it had to be Mrs. Hudson. He looked up to see Mrs. Hudson gaping at him.

"Sh-Sherlock," He heard Mrs. Hudson stutter out, obviously in shock. He heard John gasp slightly.

The phrase he heard John utter next, made his heart ache, "You can see him too?"


End file.
